


creatures of appetite

by darkpilot_trash



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Abuse, Deepthroating, Dubious Consent, Forced Orgasm, Gangbang, Jealousy, M/M, Manipulation, Murder, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Punishment, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slut Shaming, Spitroasting, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 05:38:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6643534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkpilot_trash/pseuds/darkpilot_trash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first thing Poe becomes aware of is how uncomfortable he is. There’s a persistent soreness that tugs at his muscles and makes his eyelids twitch, that drags him reluctantly into hazy wakefulness. He frowns, eyes squeezed shut against the glaring brightness overhead as he tries to shift into a more comfortable position. </p><p>The second thing Poe becomes aware of is that he can’t move.</p>
            </blockquote>





	creatures of appetite

**Author's Note:**

  * For [green_postit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/green_postit/gifts).
  * Translation into 中文 available: [creatures of appetite渴念丛生](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7218100) by [darkpilot_trash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkpilot_trash/pseuds/darkpilot_trash), [pilotrocks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pilotrocks/pseuds/pilotrocks)



> Written for [this prompt](https://tfa-kink.dreamwidth.org/1082.html?thread=1193274#cmt1193274) at the [TFA Kinkmeme](https://tfa-kink.dreamwidth.org/). Here's hoping people don't mind a second fill! My endless gratitude to green_postit for her unwavering enthusiasm, cheerleading, beta-reading, and most of all her friendship over the course of writing this fic. 
> 
> Please mind the warnings and I hope you guys enjoy the story. <3

\--

The first thing Poe becomes aware of is how uncomfortable he is. There’s a persistent soreness that tugs at his muscles and makes his eyelids twitch, that drags him reluctantly into hazy wakefulness. He frowns, eyes squeezed shut against the glaring brightness overhead as he tries to shift into a more comfortable position.

The second thing Poe becomes aware of is that he can’t move.

A burst of panicked fear courses through him as soon as he registers the restraints holding him down, raw and fast and irrepressible as he wrenches his eyes open. As he tries to gather his bearings, heart pounding loudly in his throat.

He’s strapped onto something hard and unyielding, cold metal around his neck, his wrists, his waist, his ankles. Poe heaves against the restraints and is utterly unsurprised when it has no effect whatsoever, blinks hard and narrows his eyes as he tries to make out the room around him. It’s dark aside from the light shining directly overhead.

Flashes of memory start coming back to him in staccato bursts.

_The mission at the Resistance outpost on Polmanar. Alarms blaring, the stunned expressions on the sentients around him. Trying to rally but there’s not enough time, not enough men, the heavy footfalls of Stormtroopers outside the building as they come closer, surrounding them, and –_

There’s a dull lurch in his stomach as his vision comes into focus, the sinking realization that he’s been in a room like this before.

“Hello, Poe.”

Poe startles at the sound of the soft voice, strains his neck and eyes as he scans the room, and –

And there he is; sitting in one of the room’s darkened corners, the black of his robes and Poe’s dazzled vision enough to obscure him until now. Kylo Ren, face exposed and helmet resting on the floor at his feet, his eyes fixed intently on Poe. There’s a thick, ragged scar on Ren’s face that runs from the centre of his forehead across the bridge of his nose, sweeping down across his right cheek.

It’s the first time Poe’s seen Ben’s face in almost fourteen years, hadn’t even known who he _was_ until afterwards. Had remained blissfully unaware until General Organa confessed the secret to him after the destruction of Starkiller Base, her features tight and her eyes shining with grief and guilt and terrible sadness. 

Poe still doesn’t know how he would’ve reacted differently if he’d known that it was Ben behind that mask, who stripped Poe’s mind bare and made him scream and shudder and sob without ever laying a hand on him. That scrawny little boy Poe remembers from Yavin, the one who used to come knocking on Poe’s door whenever he’d sneak away from his uncle’s academy, who used to trail after Poe with unconcealed awe in his eyes.

Poe’s mouth twists into a furious scowl.

“ _You_ ,” Poe spits contemptuously. He glares at Ren, straining instinctively against the restraints even though he knows there’s no point, that there’s no physical way he could pull himself free.

Ren’s dark eyebrows quirk upwards, the corner of his mouth twitching into the barest hint of a smug grin.

“Me,” Ren replies in a low, darkly satisfied voice. There’s something barely-restrained underlying his expression, a kind of stifled excitement rolling off of him in waves as he stares at Poe with absolute fixation on his face.

The man who killed Han Solo, who came terrifyingly close to killing Finn; who tortured Poe once already, who laid his mind bare with ruthless brutality – Ren just keeps _staring_ at him in a way that makes him shiver, that makes uneasiness crawl up his spine.

For the second time in his life, he finds his mind flashing to every piece of classified information the Resistance has ever trusted him with. The difference is that this time he doesn’t have even a sliver of hope that he might be able to put up a fight, that he might somehow find a way to keep Ren out of his head. Escaping from Kylo Ren once had been nothing short of miraculous; the idea of him being so lucky twice is just laughable.

All that matters now is being able to hold Ren off long enough for the Resistance to get word of the attack, to evacuate their current base before Poe inevitably gives up their location.

It’s not how Poe always thought he was going to die, blown out of the sky with such brutal speed he wouldn’t even have time to feel pain. This is going to hurt, and it’s going to be drawn out. The death he managed to evade last time finally catching up to him.

At least, he reflects sadly, he got to have a few more months of borrowed time. Got to do just a little bit more for the Resistance while he could; got to know Finn and Rey, to spend the last of his days with some of the very best people he’s ever had the privilege of knowing.

That’s good, Poe thinks. That’s enough.

“You know, your hospitality really hasn’t improved,” Poe tells Ren with quiet defiance, trying to school his expression into something resolute and neutral. It’s difficult, though; he feels more exposed than he did last time, more painfully aware of his own powerlessness.  It makes it harder to stifle the spark of raw panic trying to flare up inside of him.

Maybe it’s because he already knows how much it’s going to hurt.

Poe is startled out of his own head when Ren gets to his feet. The way the light plays over his face makes the red of Ren’s scar stand out vividly against his pale skin as he moves closer. Poe feels a brief flicker of righteous satisfaction at the sight of his narrow features so visibly disfigured as a result of his own treachery.

“Have you missed me?” Ren asks quietly, a strangely rapt expression on his face as he comes even closer. His eyes are fixed on Poe’s face, and for a strange moment it’s almost as though he starts to reach out to _touch_ him before he stifles the urge, gloved hand flexing at his side. “We didn’t get a chance to really talk last time.”

Another shiver of nameless unease runs down Poe’s spine.

“You’ve certainly been doing well for yourself since then,” Ren continues, pointedly measured and deliberate as he speaks. “Taking your pilots to destroy my base. Your little recruitment missions all over the galaxy.” Something dark and spiteful passes over Ren’s face. “Running off with a traitor before I was done with you.”

“It’s always nice to have a hobby,” Poe tells him with cool irreverence, glancing up at Ren and stubbornly holding his gaze. “I’m thinking of taking up synth-knitting next. I hear it’s good for the –”

It’s no surprise when he feels an invisible hand close over his throat in response but Poe makes an involuntary choking sound when it happens anyways. There’s a thin trickle of air down his throat but it’s not enough, panic instinctively surging through his body as he struggles to breathe.

“You will regret pushing me further than you have already,” Ren tells him in a quietly uncompromising voice, enunciating each word clearly as he watches Poe thrash uselessly his restraints, as he tries to choke down air that won’t come. “You used to do it before, too. Don’t think I’ve forgotten the way you used to make a mockery of me. Flaunting every dalliance while you refused me even the merest scraps of your affection.”

Poe’s head is already reeling, is starting to feel lightheaded by the time he feels fingers tangle cruelly in his hair before his head is wrenched up, Ren’s face now only a few inches away from his. His face and neck are hot, lungs burning as Ren holds his gaze with uncomfortable intensity.

“Tell me, Poe,” Ren says, his voice strangely aloof as he narrows his eyes, “have you spread your legs for the entire Resistance, or just most of them?”

 _What?_ Poe thinks frantically, weakly, darkness just starting to curl at the edges of his vision – before the pressure is lifted from his throat and his desperate need for _air please need to breathe **air** _ wipes everything else from his mind. He gulps down ragged breaths as Ren untangles his fingers from Poe’s hair, jerks his hand away as though he’s been burnt. 

“What the hell are you talking–?” Poe croaks, still trying to catch his breath, but Ren waves a hand and the words catch in his throat before he can finish. He lets out a frustrated sound at the unfairness of it; wants to yell, wants to _scream_.

He has to think hard for a long few moments before the memory comes to him: of being eighteen years old and attending a New Republic military gala, Leia Organa and Han Solo both in attendance as heroes of the old Rebel Alliance. They’d brought Ben with them, scrawny and pale and sixteen years old and looking as though he’d wanted to set the place on fire, and he’d seemed so lonely and frustrated at being dragged along that Poe hadn’t even hesitated before walking over to talk with him. The two of them had chatted over a few glasses of Corellian wine, Ben’s eyes burning brightly as Poe poked fun at the gala’s various attendants.

And then Ben had kissed him when they went out onto the balcony a few hours later, an awkward and uncertain thing that had ended with Poe pushing him away with a surprised laugh. _Sorry buddy_ , he’d said with a smile, _I think I’m a bit old for you. Don’t worry, it’s the wine, I get it. Let’s head inside, yeah?_

And that had been it as far as Poe had been concerned.

 _Is that what this is about?_ Poe thinks in bewildered disbelief. _One kiss from over a decade ago?_

It’s clearly more than that to Ren.

“How many people have had you since I’ve been away?” Ren asks him in a jarringly dispassionate voice, and Poe gapes at him. The words are quiet but his expression is dangerous in its fixation, running his eyes over Poe’s face as though he can discern the answer just by looking. “How many people have touched what’s mine?”

“I’m not _yours_ ,” Poe blurts out in horrified astonishment, because he’s _not_ , he never _has_ been, and all of this is fucking _insane_. He’s more dumbfounded than he is righteously angry, completely thrown for a loop by this incomprehensible turn of events.

Ren tenses at his words _,_ scarred face smoothing into something very still and dangerous.

“Oh, that’s where you’re wrong,” says Ren softly, tilting his head to one side as he holds Poe’s gaze. “No one’s coming for you, not this time. I can do whatever I want and no one’s going to stop me.”

There’s a long moment of charged silence before Ren reaches out, very slowly and very pointedly, rests a gloved hand along the side of Poe’s face. Poe steels himself before the touch comes, sets his jaw and forces himself not to flinch at the touch of cold leather against his skin. It’s not as though he can get away, after all, and the other thing struggling will achieve is to make him look weak.

The point is clearly and effortlessly made. Ren is entirely in control of what happens to him, and Poe’s only option is to suffer through whatever Ren decides to do.

“I’m the one who decides what you need now,” Ren breathes with obvious satisfaction, his eyes flickering down briefly to Poe’s lips. When he glances back up again there’s something uncompromising and ruthless in his expression. “And what you need right now is to let me in.”

And then Poe’s gasping, thrashing as he feels something sickeningly _wrong_ start to force its way inside his mind. It feels like an invasion, like an _attack_ , a pitiless push as something beyond intrusive tears through his defenses. He grits his teeth, squeezes his eyes shut and tries with everything he’s got to _get it out get it out get it out **get it out**_.

“Shh,” Ren murmurs quietly, and Poe can’t hold back a whimper as he _feels_ Ren slide past his defenses, pushing into his mind with pathetic ease. His gloved hand is firm and unmovable against the side of his face, thumb stroking soothingly over Poe’s cheek. “Stop fighting me. I know your mind, you can’t keep me out.” Calm and gentle and placating as he brutally shoves his way inside Poe’s head, clawing aside the surface thoughts before –

feeling something rifle through his memories with focused determination, looking for something specific, pushing aside the unnecessary information and worming its way deeper into his brain, looking looking _looking_ for something, and it’s –

_laughing and grinning as they tumble into poe’s bed, both of them young and eager and wanting and ready_

_‘it’s all right,’ poe murmurs against his lips, arching his hips up and grinding their cocks together, ‘you’re not going to hurt me, i promise, just—’_

_familiar eyes and familiar hands and the press of a warm mouth against his, the tantalizing scrape of beard against his jaw_

_‘i just want to feel something,’ she whispers, crawling into his lap with tears streaking her face. ‘please, poe, i want –”_

_‘you like that?’ he asks in a husky voice and poe practically mewls in response, hands above his head as one of the tentacles pushes inside of him, as another squeezes lazily around his cock_

_trying not to gag as the guard fucks greedily into his mouth, knowing the others need a few more minutes of distraction before the data transfer is complete, and_

_groaning as he lowers himself down onto his friend’s cock, the ache of being filled a reminder that he’s alive, they’re both alive,_

_face pressed hard into the standard-issue pillow as he’s ploughed roughly from behind, his toes curling with needy desperation and his hand smacked away playfully as he reaches for his cock_

_‘that’s right, that’s – oh,’ poe gasps, scrabbling at finn’s strong shoulders as he starts to be fucked in earnest, throwing his head back and oh please oh please please please, this is perfect, this is everything, this is –_

The hand resting against his face is yanked away abruptly and Poe startles, had almost forgotten Ren was even there.

It’s as though he’s been physically dragged through each and every one of the memories; reliving them firsthand, thoughts and sensations coming back to him all in a rush. His whole body is tingling, _aching_ as though every single one of them just happened to him moments ago instead of years ago. He feels a jolt of embarrassment at the realization that his cock is hard and throbbing between his legs, straining against the front of his pants.

The expression of twisted-up fury on Ren’s face is so wild and uncontained that Poe has to physically stop himself from recoiling away from him. Rage is rolling off of Ren in waves, his mouth pressed too-tight together and his eyes burning dangerously. It looks as though he’s barely containing himself from lashing out, from doing something rash and brutal and unquestionably violent, and Poe is abruptly reminded of the way Ben sometimes used to smash his toys to pieces when they were kids.

"Haven't you been _busy_ ,” hisses Ren in a tight voice, and it’s really the disdain in his eyes that makes Poe clench his jaw, makes him lean forward as much as he can against his restraints as he viciously holds Ren’s gaze.

“That’s none of your _fucking_ business,” Poe snaps back. “Whatever you’ve been telling yourself all these years, you are _nothing_ to me. You gave up any chance you ever could’ve had the day you betrayed your own family, _Ben,_ and if you don’t realize that then you really are delusional.”

In front of him, Ren goes rigid. He stands there, staring at Poe with such unrestrained _hatred_ on his face, and when his hand clenches spasmodically at his side there’s a moment when Poe genuinely thinks he’s going to go for his lightsaber.

And then, all at once, Ren’s entire demeanour just… changes.

The tension drains from his shoulders with chilling abruptness, his face smoothing out into an almost neutral expression. He tilts his head to one side, rakes his eyes over Poe – his face, his body – with a kind of clinical consideration that is somehow far more terrifying than the anger ever was.

“I’m the one who decides what you need now,” Ren tells him again, only this time the declaration is chilling in how hollow the words are, how calm Ren looks as he says it. He twitches, scar straining as the corner of his mouth twists up into a disdainful sneer.  “And I think that what you need is to be taught a lesson.”

And then his eyes are sliding off Poe’s body as he turns away, striding over to the comm system by the door with measured restraint in every step. He jabs one of the buttons, waits for a response.

“Send nine Stormtroopers to interrogation cell 45,” Ren orders calmly as soon as there’s the crackle of feedback, and Poe feels himself go cold. “Weapons not necessary.”

There’s an affirmative crackle from the comm – and then silence.

Poe’s throat has gone completely dry, a hollow disbelief in the pit of his stomach. He has to fight to dredge up something to say.

“What are you doing?” Poe hears his own voice asking, as though it’s coming from somewhere far away. He knows, though. Of course he knows. Doesn’t want to admit it but knows it from the way his gut twists with sickening clarity, from the mounting horror clawing at the insides of his chest. His heart is pounding, his erection long gone.

There’s a sense of unreality as Ren walks slowly back towards him from across the room, head tilted to one side as he watches Poe with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Isn’t this what you crave now, Poe?” Ren asks, purposefully uncomprehending, and Poe jerks as one of the memories from before – the one of him and Finn together – is dragged slowly through his mind like a taunt.

Everything about it is _wrong_ , though. That night had been exhilarating and heated and sweet, the slow-building spark between the two of them finally cresting into something that had left both of them aching once they fell into the rhythm of each other. As the easy camaraderie they’d shared since the very beginning shifted into something more physical, all the while feeling as natural to Poe as breathing.

It doesn’t feel anything like that now, though. The memory that’s paraded through his head is sickeningly distorted, himself more wanton and Finn sharper at the edges and all of it twisted up into something so much more vulgar and _cheap_ than he remembers it being in real life.

Poe’s stomach churns when he realizes he’s seeing the memory through Ren’s eyes, tainted and dirtied with the other man’s vicious disdain. As he feels Ren’s need to _punish_ shuddering beneath it, to make him hurt and _prove_ something so tangled-up and frenzied Poe only gets a glimpse of it before it’s gone from his mind.

He swallows, has to concentrate on not letting his voice shake when he speaks.

“Ben,” Poe begins in a quiet voice, as though he’s trying to soothe a startled animal. Disbelieving panic is swelling up in Poe’s chest but he pushes it down, doesn’t look at it right now. He leans forward against his restraints, tries to force himself to sound as calm and rational as possible. “Ben, look at me. Just… tell me what you want.”

His heart clenches as he forces the words out, as he lays bare the only leverage he has.

Ren just stares at him, silent and inscrutable.

"Tell me what you want and we can work something out,” Poe tries again, fighting to keep the waver out of his voice. He licks his lips, opens his mouth to keep talking.

The words are cut off as Ren reaches out, as he takes his chin in his gloved hand in a ruthlessly tight grip, and it’s not so much that he can’t breathe so much that the words just won’t come out.

“What I want,” says Ren slowly, something barely restrained in the words as he holds Poe’s gaze with frightening intensity, “is for you to realize who you really belong to.”

His eyes drift for a moment, trailing absently over Poe’s hair, his mouth, running down to his neck.

“I’m going to make you regret every time you let someone fuck you who wasn’t me,” Ren murmurs under his breath, and the really alarming thing is that he doesn’t even sound angry about it. When Ren’s eyes flicker up to meet Poe’s again, they are shining with something hard and uncompromising and full of conviction. “This is the last time anyone else is going to lay a hand on you for the rest of your life. I want you to remember what it feels like.”

Ren lets go of Poe’s face then, takes a few steps back – staring at him, still _staring_ at him as Poe tries his best to keep it together.

“This is going to hurt me _so_ much more than it’s going to hurt you,” says Ren, straight-faced and grim, and for a surreal moment Poe is almost shocked enough to bark out a laugh at how painfully serious he is when he says it.

 _Yeah, I kinda doubt that,_ Poe thinks as though through a thick haze, caught in a moment of frozen horror that just keeps on going. His mind is racing, running through every single one of the coping mechanisms the Resistance ever taught him about withstanding torture.

 _It can’t be that different_ , he thinks slightly hysterically, trying to stifle the panic bubbling up in his chest with every passing minute.

Poe feels his whole body stiffen when the doors slide open.

Nine Stormtroopers file into the room, their footfalls loud against the floor. All of them are encased in shiny white armour, faces hidden by helmets as they stand rigid to attention. They look less than human like this, interchangeable: there is no way to tell who these men are, let alone what they’re thinking.

He mind flashes to Finn for a moment and he thinks he might be sick, feels his stomach churn violently at the idea that in another world Finn could’ve been one of the men ordered up here to –

 _Don’t think about Finn_ , Poe thinks fervently, thinks he might fall to pieces if he lets himself linger. He sets his jaw, painfully aware of each second slipping away as Ren turns to face his men. _You can’t afford to think about him right now._

Poe is stiff with tension as he waits for Ren to stay something, to talk to them, and an uncomfortable amount of time passes before he realizes there’s something strange about how this is set up. Ren standing there, his back to Poe as he faces the two lines of Stormtroopers, all of them standing to rigid attention as though –

As though they’re receiving orders.

 _He’s in their heads,_ Poe realizes with dawning horror, eyes widening at the realization that he won’t even be able to hear their instructions before it happens.

All of them stand there for a long minute, the room utterly silent except for Poe’s loud breathing – before everything seems to spring into action all at once, a sudden flurry of movement. Ren walks towards him with two Stormtroopers in tow, the rest of them moving out of his line of sight as automatically and silently as though they’re nothing more than tools at Ren’s disposal.

Poe presses his lips together as Ren approaches, forces himself not to flinch when Ren tangles his gloved fingers in his hair. Ren wrenches his head back, holds eye contact with him for a long moment.

“You’re going to behave,” Ren tells him in a low voice, eyes burning, and it’s only after the words are out of his mouth that Poe feels them settle heavily in his heart, in his gut, right down to his bones. The ghost of a smile nudges at the corner of his mouth.

It isn’t a question, and when the restraints holding him down snap undone there’s nothing he can do except wait for further instruction

“Take off your clothes,” Ren tells him and Poe does, already reaching up to unbutton his shirt before the order even registers properly. He holds Ren’s gaze bitterly as he shrugs it off his shoulders, the back of his neck flushing; is uncomfortably aware of the pair of Stormtroopers looking on impassively at Ren’s sides as he starts to undo his pants.

Every article of clothing he takes off feeling like a defeat, a concession to the inevitability of what’s going to happen to him. He bites the inside of his cheek at the helplessness of it, at the way Ren drinks in the sight of him greedily.

Poe doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t want to give Ren the satisfaction, yes – but also can’t afford to focus on anything other than holding back raw fear right now, at smothering the panicked realization that this is really happening.

 _Don’t think,_ Poe tells himself as he sees the solid-looking, waist-high metal bench that’s been set up for him, as he takes in the sight of the other Stormtroopers lined up and waiting with their backs to the wall.

One of the Stormtroopers manhandles him into place, pushing him down so that he’s bent forwards with his bare stomach pressed against the shockingly cold metal of the bench, the length of it just short enough that his head dangles off the edge. Another snaps the large restraint closed over his waist and another two make him spread his legs, making him get his feet into place and then closing the manacles over his ankles. For a second he’s distantly confused by the fact that his hands are still free before his arms are grabbed and jostled into place behind his back, a pair of thick cuffs snapping over them with a _click_.

Everywhere his skin is pressed against the metal is so cold it aches, and in his whole life Poe has never been made to feel so starkly and deliberately vulnerable. Naked and shivering and on display, bent over with his legs spread wide and painfully aware of what’s going to happen. He stares down at the floor, heart pounding in his throat. He can hear the subtle sounds of the Stormtroopers standing behind him; the slight shift of boots against the ground, the barest hint of breathing from beneath their helmets. Their nameless eyes on his bare skin as they wait.

He hears footsteps, stiffens when he feels a bare hand – Ren’s hand, he can tell from how lingering the touch is, he must’ve taken his gloves off – trail gently up his back.

“Comfortable _?_ ” comes Ren’s voice from beside him and Poe clenches his jaw against the mockery of it, _don’t think don’t think don’t think._

When Ren speaks again, the order he gives is cold and emotionless.

“You may begin.”

Fear claws at his chest anyways when he hears footsteps approach behind him.

A gloved hand takes hold of his hip, stiff and rigid and rubbery against his skin. Poe goes absolutely rigid at the touch, tries in vain to force his body to relax because this is happening, it’s really happening and it’s going to _hurt_ but he can handle that. He squeezes his eyes shut, his old instructors’ words ringing loudly in his ears.

_Accept the pain, ride it out. Nothing lasts forever. Nothing –_

The press of slick, bare fingers at his entrance is an entirely different level of horror from what he’s expecting.

Poe’s eyes fly open in shock as he’s breached, as fingers push past his body’s resistance until they’re _inside_ him, a slick violation. It aches; an unwanted fullness that makes his breath catch in his throat, a stinging stretch as they inch their way inside.

It doesn’t hurt, though; the feeling of the fingers pressing into him is too measured and familiar for that.

The fact that there’s no pain just makes it worse.

“Look at me,” says Ren and Poe doesn’t have a choice, is already lifting his head up before he even processes what the words mean.

Ren’s moved right in front of him without Poe realizing, crouched down so that he can greedily take in the expression on Poe’s face as he’s slowly worked open. His scarred face is so close that Poe can feel the brush of Ren’s breath against his cheek as he watches.

“This is what you want now, after all,” says Ren quietly, an undercurrent of something darkly vindictive underlying the words. Poe tries to glare but his breath hitches as trooper’s fingers start to move inside of him, _fucking_ him, thick and blunt and invasive as they stretch him open.

Poe’s stomach churns with the violation of it, cold sweat starting to prickle at the back of his neck.

“Will this one be as good as FN-2187?” Ren lets out a huff of laughter with absolutely no humour in it. “They’re all the same, so I can’t imagine there would be much of a difference.” Ren glances at something over Poe’s shoulder. “Another.”

The last word isn’t directed at him. Poe, who had gone utterly rigid with blinding fury as soon as Ren mentioned Finn, flinches as he feels the Stormtrooper pull out sharply before pressing three fingers inside, all of them coated with a fresh dollop of slick.

 _Don’t give him the satisfaction,_ Poe thinks roughly as fingers drag unintentionally over his prostate, biting the inside of his mouth hard to keep from jolting at the sensation. He stares defiantly into Ren’s hazel eyes as it happens, lets out a slow and shaky breath. _Tune it out, ignore it, detach from the pain –_

The problem is that there isn’t any pain for him to detach from. For a second Poe wishes fiercely that they weren’t doing anything to prepare him at all, because these almost-gentle touches, the sensation of being stretched open – his body recognizes all of it. The drag and stretch of the Stormtrooper’s fingers is too persistent to ignore, too, leaving him stuck in a sickening limbo where he feels every touch, where he hears every word.

“This must be a dream come true for you, taking as many of them as you can handle.” Ren’s voice is infuriatingly dispassionate even as his eyes shine with something cruel and deadly furious. “Do you think nine will be enough to get rid of the craving?”

Prickles of sweat are starting to bead on Poe’s forehead. His cock twitches treacherously as those fingers drag over his prostate again, a sharp jolt of sickening pleasure amidst the violation.

He sees Ren’s mouth tighten before he takes a sudden step back, as Ren settles himself down in a chair a few feet away, still _staring._ Poe keeps looking at him anyways, can’t wrench his eyes away even when he tries. The fingers are still moving, an invasive aching drag that tugs at his insides.

“That’s enough,” Ren commands abruptly. The fingers inside of him come to a sudden halt, wringing a shudder out of Poe’s tense body. There’s a wrenching sensation as the fingers are yanked out, a moment of sickening emptiness that rings hollow in his gut.

Ren stares at him for a long moment, something deeply bitter in the lines of his face.

“Give him what he wants.”

And then there’s a blunt pressure against Poe’s hole and he tenses up without meaning to, stomach lurching as the Stormtrooper grips his hips tight and starts pushing into him, slow and steady and achingly thorough.

It’s a violation so huge and wrong it drags a small strangled noise out of Poe’s throat, his body recoiling instinctively as he’s slowly fucked open on Ren’s orders, as he’s filled to the brim by someone whose face he’s never seen. He tries and fails to suppress the inborn urge to _fight back, get him off, get **away**_ , bucks his hips backwards and regrets it immediately when all he manages to do is drive himself further onto the Stormtrooper’s thick cock.

The Stormtrooper pushes in until he’s fully seated, hands tight on Poe’s hips as he buries himself all the way inside. Poe chokes off a whimper at the fullness of it, bites his bottom lip as he twitches helplessly around the weight inside of him.

Then there’s the sickening sensation of withdrawal, the devastation of being slammed into as the Stormtrooper starts to fuck him in earnest.

It feels as though he’s being split in two, the relentless press of the cock pounding into him too blunt and invasive without the usual desire there to dull the edges. It’s a steady rhythm, methodical, every thrust sending a confused jolt of sensation through his body. It burns, _aches,_ and Poe is far too aware of every sensation, of the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin.

 _“_ There we go,” says Ren, his voice hardened with cold satisfaction, and Poe realizes that his eyes are squeezed tight, trying his hardest to block out what’s happening to him. He can feel every inch of the Stormtrooper’s cock as it drives into him, shudders at the drag of with every withdrawal. “Is this what you want? Is this what you _need?”_

“Fuck you,” Poe spits at him, gritting his teeth and forgetting for a moment that he’s trying to stay silent. He can feel sweat trickling down his neck, his hands clenched into white-knuckled fists where they’re bound behind his back. He snarls, decides he doesn’t care. “ _Fuck_ you, this doesn’t –”

“Take his mouth,” Ren commands coolly and Poe’s words catch in his throat, eyes flying open again as Ren abruptly gets to his feet and comes over to stand at his side. The Stormtrooper behind him doesn’t falter, keeps snapping his hips forward with military precision, a relentless rhythm that’s starting to make unwanted sensation jolt up Poe’s spine with every thrust.

He hears the sound of another Stormtrooper coming to stand in front of him before he walks into Poe’s field of vision. Poe’s stomach lurches at the sight of the long, thick cock with a bead of precome at the tip protruding from the relief panel in his black undersuit. The trooper has a gloved hand around his cock, lazily stroking himself to full hardness.

 _Try it,_ Poe thinks wildly, bracing himself for what he’s about to do. He grits his teeth.   _Just try it, you fucking –_

“You’re not going to bite,” comes Ren’s voice again, laced with compulsion. It yanks the possibility away from Poe before he can even try, leaves him even more helpless than he was before.

Ren reaches out with a huge hand and delicately takes hold of his chin, tilts his head up.

“Open up,” Ren commands and Poe feels his mouth fall open without his permission, his eyes prickling with sick humiliation as the trooper wastes no time, thrusting into Poe’s mouth and hitting the back of his throat in a way that makes him splutter and choke and his eyes water.

And then he’s plugged from both ends, caught between the two staggered rhythms as they fuck into him; gagging on the cock in his mouth, clenching around the one in his ass.

“There we go,” Ren says in a tight voice, fingers stiff as he reluctantly jerks his hand away. Poe can see him out of the corner of his eye but it’s hard to focus on compared to trying to remember how to breathe like this _,_ his mind stuttering and snagging on the sensation of being fucked by two men at once. He hears Ren let out a humourless huff of breath. “This must be everything you’ve ever wanted.”

The Stormtrooper behind him drives into him _hard_ and Poe lets out a wretched noise before he can catch himself, the sound of it choked-off and thick around the cock in his mouth. There’s drool running down his chin, his own treacherously hard cock jostled between his legs with every thrust.

“Does he feel good?”

Ren’s voice drifts over to him, carefully dispassionate in its curiosity, and hysteria starts to rise in Poe’s throat before it dawns on him that the question isn’t intended for him.

“Yes, sir,” comes a voice immediately behind him.

The sound of it is distorted by his helmet, unsteady with exertion as he drives hard into Poe’s ass, and Poe hadn’t realized it was possible to be made to feel like this much less than a person.

His cheeks burn with humiliation, jaw aching as the trooper in front of him keeps steadily driving his spit-slick cock between Poe’s stretched lips. The hands on his hips tighten their grip as he’s fucked with mounting urgency.

“Is he tight around you?” Ren asks, the detached obscenity of the question so nightmarish it makes something deep inside of Poe recoil, makes his skin crawl even more as he’s rocked between the two of them. It makes him almost relieved that he can’t look at Ren like this, that the only thing he can see is skin and black undersuit and the shine of white armour at the edges of his vision. 

“ _Yes_ , sir,” the trooper says again, voice more ragged this time, and Poe can tell from the way his hips are stuttering that he’s close, almost there, almost over. When he hears the Stormtrooper shuddering breath behind him a few seconds later, Poe squeezes his eyes shut and cringes at the wet spurt of come in his ass. 

There a brief moment of reprieve when it happens, a few seconds of profound relief when the Stormtrooper withdraws even as the one in front of him keeps right on fucking his mouth.

The respite is short-lived.

There’s the sound of hasty footsteps behind him as another trooper comes to take his place, an abrupt and clumsy pressure against his hole before another cock is being shoved into him with overeager enthusiasm. Poe chokes off a pained groan around the cock in his mouth, feels the squelch of slick and come and then he’s full again, already oversensitive and it _hurts_ a second time. Too raw too many too _much_.

“This is your fault, you know,” Ren says, his voice drifting over from somewhere nearby.

The words are tinged with old resentment that Poe can’t afford to think about right now, but when he tries to tune him out he finds he can’t manage it. That instead he’s sickeningly aware of every word, every touch, of his own unwanted erection being jostled as he’s fucked with uneven and hasty thrusts.

“If you had given me what I wanted all those years ago we could’ve avoided this,” Ren tells him bitterly, as though _he’s_ the one who’s suffering right now. Ren snorts, something bitter and derisive in the sound.

The trooper fucking his mouth seems to be growing more confident now, reaches up to tangle his fingers into Poe’s hair. Holds him mercilessly still as he drives into Poe’s throat so deep he can’t breathe, spasming and gagging helplessly, _desperately_ around the intrusion. Poe splutters, _flails_ , tries to wrench his head away from where his nose is pressed right up against coarse pubic hair. The trooper taking his mouth moans, keeps rocking his hips forward with little savouring thrusts.

It’s too much, too deep, filling up his throat and blocking his air and he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, he can’t _breathe_ –

He very nearly wretches when the trooper in front of him stiffens and tightens his grip in Poe’s hair, sighing loudly as his cock twitches and hot come hits the back of Poe’s throat. He gags, swallows around it, frantic with his all-consuming need to _breathe breathe breathe breathe breathe_ as his throat works the Stormtrooper through his orgasm. 

Poe sucks down a wet lungful of air as soon as the trooper pulls away, gasping for breath even before the trooper’s cock is all the way out of his mouth. Poe shudders all over as he gulps down air, barely even notices as the trooper behind him cries out in a strangled, young-sounding voice and comes messily in his ass.

The sensation of the trooper behind him withdrawing barely registers, and Poe lies there limply for a long minute, breathing heavily and dread building up in the pit of his gut with every second that passes. Spit drips down from his lips onto the floor, arms aching and legs shaking badly with the strain of still trying to hold himself up.

Long, unyielding fingers take careful hold of his chin, cradling him gingerly as his face is tilted upwards. Poe blinks and after a moment a pale face comes into focus in front of him, pink lips dark eyes dark hair and –

“Do you think this is easy for me?” Ren asks in a softly disbelieving voice, staring at Poe as though urging him to understand. “I don’t _enjoy_ this. If I could eviscerate every person who’s ever touched you right here and now, I would do it. If I could pull that traitor apart atom by atom while you watched, I _would_ do it.”

Poe stares at him with dazed incredulity, speechless. His breathing is still coming in ragged breaths, and he shudders as a mixture of come and slick starting to leak out of his ass, to slide down his thighs.

“But they’re not here,” Ren continues after a beat, his eyes trailing down to linger on Poe’s swollen lips, and after everything that’s happened to him Poe doesn’t know how something so trivial can still make unease churn in the pit of his gut. “And you’re the one who forced my hand.”

There are gloved hands grabbing at his ass but Ren doesn’t let go of his face, holds him right where he is and very deliberately looks him in the eyes as it happens. Poe grits his teeth, manages to brace himself just in time before he’s shoved forward as yet another Stormtrooper pushes into him, starts fucking him with brisk efficiency. After a moment the violation of it starts to recede into the background as he focuses on the mounting pain, on the slick burn and ache of being used so many times.

Poe’s cock is still hard between his legs but he’s starting to feel numb to it; his eyes wander over Ren’s scar, sliding over his cheek before lingering on the empty space beside his face as his mind starts to drift.

The hairs on the back of Poe’s neck stand up and he isn’t sure why, something subtly off that itches behind his eyelids, that makes his stomach grow tight as it draws him back into his own head.

“No.”

It’s Ren’s voice, forceful and authoritative and enough to make the Stormtrooper’s pace falter as he waits for instruction. The hand cradling Poe’s face gives him a shake, makes him blink as Ren’s thumb drags over the edge of Poe’s mouth.

When Poe’s eyes refocus, he can see that there is a wry smile just barely curling at the edge of Ren’s mouth.

There’s the barest brush of something at the insides of his head.

 “Slower,” Ren instructs confidently as he holds Poe’s gaze, his dark eyes shining with something quietly triumphant as he drinks Poe in. His mouth twitches. “Make him feel it.”

There’s a momentary pause before there’s a hitch in the movement behind him, a moment of readjustment – before the thrusts behind him start to grow more languid, more _aching._ Enough to make an unexpected shock of liquid heat run up Poe’s spine, to make his cock throb between his legs.

  _No_ , Poe thinks numbly, eyes widening as he realizes what Ren is doing. He jerks away instinctively, hot panic mounting in his chest but Ren doesn’t loosen his grip, keeps tight hold of his face as the steady burn of violation starts to be overtaken by the heat pooling in the pit of his gut. Poe stares at him with wide, panicked eyes.

“ _That’s_ it,” Ren purrs, stares at him intently – and then there’s that feeling again. Feather-light and fleeting as Ren skims the surface of Poe’s mind, as he dredges up all the ways Poe’s body wants to be touched. “Use both hands, he _likes_ that –”

Hands grab roughly at his hips, hitching Poe up before pushing into him with focused intent, driving in _deep,_ the angle making him feel full in a way that makes his whole body shudder. There’s a hot flush spreading over his face and he wants to cry, beyond mortified at the thought of Ren reveling in the fact that it’s working, that Ren can take even this from him.

A particularly purposeful thrust makes him gasp without meaning to and Poe avoids Ren’s eyes, tries to ignore the pressure starting to build at the base of his spine, the treacherous buzzing in his fingertips.

A thin sheen of sweat has broken out over his whole body, legs trembling and vision blurring as the trooper keeps driving into him hard and deep, just the way he likes to be fucked.  Poe can feel Ren’s eyes on his face and he doesn’t _want_ this, needs to think about anything other than the inexorable drag of the cock inside his ass as he’s fucked faster, tries to claw back at the mounting sensation because he can’t do this, he can’t –

The Stormtrooper fucking him shifts his angle and something white-hot flashes behind Poe’s eyes, his whole body spasming violently.

“ _There_ ,” Ren hisses, his voice twisted-up and fascinated, face pressed up close. “Right _there_.”

He’s hitting that spot with every thrust now, driving Poe past the point of thought as his whole body aches and quivers with need. Every thrust makes sparks burst behind his eyes, makes raw pleasure uncoil until he’s mindless with it, writhing as every murmured word drags him closer and closer to the edge, _harder_ and _faster_ and _just like that_ as Ren’s hand cradles his face, as the Stormtrooper pounds into him from behind.

It’s too much and it’s good and it hurts and he _needs_ it, the inevitability of his orgasm building in the pit of his gut, cock hanging hard between his legs and he wants to be touched, _needs_ to be touched, can’t take much more of this and he needs it he needs it he _needs_ it –

“Mine,” Ren whispers feverishly against Poe’s lips, keeps him right there on the edge, so close so _close_.

And then Ren leans forward and kisses him, claims his mouth with ruthless intensity as he’s fucked from behind and Poe’s gone, whole body tensing up and clenching as he’s pounded through it without so much as a hand on his cock. He lets out a broken little sob against Ren’s mouth, the other man greedily drinking down every gasp as Poe seizes and shudders and comes violently undone beneath his hands.

The world goes sideways for a little while until he becomes aware of a hand carding through his hair, of someone murmuring encouraging words over the distant slap of skin against skin, over the harsh buzzing in his own ears.

There’s something stroking through his mind, too: invisible fingers that ghost along his thoughts and gently linger where it hurts, a soothing touch so subtle Poe barely noticed it was there.

“That’s right,” says Ren softly, the words a jarring contrast to the guttural sound the trooper behind him makes as he pounds into Poe one last time and finishes deep inside of him. His thoughts are scattered, fragmented; too mired in a thick haze to properly process what’s happening. Long, gentle fingers stroke through his hair; he sucks in a pained breath as the trooper behind him pulls out. “Just like that.”

When Poe slowly raises his head, Ren is looking right at him. His eyebrows are raised as he drags his eyes over Poe’s face. Poe shivers, increasingly aware of his own clammy skin – of the first creeping hint of mortification as it curls up his spine.

“Are you sorry yet?” Ren asks after a beat, his voice quiet and carefully even when he speaks. 

The veneer of control doesn’t extend to his face.  His eyes are flashing with something nearly manic in its intensity, lips pressed into a tight line as he waits for a response. There are emotions playing over Ren’s face that Poe doesn’t have the energy to identify, a subtle unsteadiness to the way he grips Poe’s chin.

Poe coughs wetly, draws himself up as much as he can against his restraints, and spits on Ren's face.

Ren’s eyes immediately darken, lip curling as something spiteful and ugly settles over him. He jerks his hands away as though he’s been burned, swipes a hand over his cheek to scrub it away.

“Fine,” Ren snaps, standing and striding back to his chair in whirl of black robes and crackling fury. “Continue, then.”

Poe squeezes his eyes shut, pointedly doesn’t think about whether or not that was the right decision. Just desperately tries to keep breathing; to let the impossible pain between his legs drown everything else out, to pull him under.

 _One second at a time,_ Poe thinks as another one approaches behind him, a nightmare that never ends. His hips are being grabbed, something thick and blunt pressed against his entrance. _Just take it one second at a time. You’re nearly there. Nothing can last forever. Nothing can –_

The scream is wrenched out of his throat as the biggest cock he’s ever taken is brutally rammed into him all at once, eyes bugging open as the world slams back down around him as the Stormtrooper roughly forces his way inside. 

It’s _huge_ , so big and thick that Poe can practically feel it in his gut as it pushes all the way inside. Poe gasps, whimpers, his body reeling with the shock of having something so impossibly large stretching him open. His ass been fucked open by three cocks already and it doesn’t make a difference, the stretch of it unbearable. Fresh sweat break out on Poe’s forehead and neck, his whole body shaking helplessly at the sensation of being so far beyond full.

He’s past the point of screaming the Stormtrooper draws back and starts fucking him properly, mouth open and gaping at the agonizing slide and stretch of something so enormous inside of him, _using_ him. Riding him into wretchedness as Kylo Ren watches from his seat across the room, an unreadable expression on his face as Poe tries with everything he has left not _wail._

It’s practically a relief when another Stormtrooper comes around in front of him, blocking his view of Ren and effectively stopping him from screaming by grabbing Poe’s face and shoving a cock into his mouth. It’s shorter than the last one, not long enough to make him gag but thick in a way that makes him drool sloppily. It barely even registers compared to the enormity of the cock in his ass, ploughing him ruthlessly from behind. His eyes feel like they’re about to roll back in his head, as though he might shake apart with his lips stretched wide, impaled from behind on something so gut-churningly huge. Poe hears the _crack_ of the slap before he feels it across his ass, lets out a shout around the dick in his mouth when it makes him tense up, makes him squeeze even tighter around that unthinkable fullness.

The moment the trooper reaches down and wraps a hand around Poe’s cock, though, is the moment he feels himself break.

Too sensitive and too much and it _hurts_ , his whole body seizing and spasming violently in overwhelmed shock as the calloused hand starts palming at Poe’s limp cock. He moans, _screams_ and the trooper in front of him sucks in a breath at the vibrations, getting off on the muffled sounds of his agony. The one behind him keeps fucking him through it; laughing a little as he squeezes and tugs at Poe’s cock, groaning when it makes Poe’s body spasm and clench and _writhe_ around him.

Poe bucks, _sobs_ – and then the one behind him is coming, pounding into him a few more times before he lets out an obscene moan, thrusts in hard, and the hand around Poe’s too-sensitive dick finally falls away. Swallows automatically when there’s a rush of bitterness on his tongue.

He makes a wounded sound when the Stormtrooper behind him pulls out, choking a little when the flaccid cock slips out of his mouth. He coughs, head dangling limply, too wrung out to think as fresh come slides down his legs. His face is wet, body numb and detached. He shudders, his mind skittering over the blessed emptiness as he finally starts to detach from himself – to go numb.

There’s a strangled shout behind him, the spluttering sound of someone choking, and for a disconnected moment Poe finds himself wondering blankly he’s the one making those noises, if he just hasn’t realized that he’s choking yet. When he it dawns on him that that’s not the case he slowly raises his head, looks up – and feels his eyes growing wide at what he sees.

Ren is on his feet, chair overturned and his arm outstretched towards something behind Poe’s back. His fingers are splayed wide and shaking, but from his current position Poe can’t see his face, can’t see any higher than his chin. The choking sounds are intensifying behind him and Poe blinks feebly, cranes his neck in an attempt to see what’s happening over his shoulder.

There’s a pair of white-armoured legs hanging several feet above the ground, kicking frantically.

“You do not,” Ren enunciates out slowly in a voice that’s simmering with barely-contained rage, low and so dangerous it makes Poe go cold as he turns around to look at him again. “Take such liberties.” The spluttering sounds take on an even more urgent note behind him. “With _him_!”

The last word is shouted, _screamed_ in a voice that’s bursting with apoplectic rage. Poe flinches away instinctively, squeezes his eyes shut just in time to hear the loud _snap_ that echoes throughout the room, the _thump_ of a human body hitting the floor moments after.

There’s a ringing silence that follows, Ren’s heavy breathing the only sound in the otherwise silent room. Poe’s head reels, heart pounding.

It’s a long time before Ren speaks again.

“You will carry on as ordered,” Ren tells them after a long pause, voice low and teeth audibly gritted. His voice is rigid and unyielding in a way that brooks absolutely no opposition, tight and controlled as though he’s still on the brink of violence. “You will finish this as was intended.”

Poe hisses sharply when he feels a trembling hand rest on his hip, the touch drawing his attention to the throbbing pain between his legs. There’s the brief sound of skin against skin, and Poe experiences a brief moment of obscure hope that the rest of them are all too scared to get it up before chokes on a pained sound as something hard presses against him.

And then it’s pushing inside and it hurts more than anything Poe can remember, his whole body convulsing violently as it pushes inside.

It’s not all that big but the steady push and pull of a cock moving inside of him is too much for him to bear anyways, each squelching thrust well past the brink of what he can stand. The feel of it is never-ending and agonizing, an inexorable onslaught of pain and sensation. Poe tries to focus on other things instead: the screaming pain in his lower back from being bent double so long, the way his legs are trembling so hard he can only let them dangle.

Someone lifts up his chin and Poe opens mouth without being ordered to; just wants this over with, wants it _done._ Doesn’t know how long he stays like that: sucking weakly on the cock in his mouth, being steadily fucked from behind.

He’s just spitting out a mouthful of come onto the floor – he can’t swallow anymore, can’t do it, knows he’ll be sick if he tries – when he feels a hand stroke along his aching back. He tenses up at first but it doesn’t turn violent; just keeps petting him with single-minded gentleness, the touch a sharp contrast to the cock still pounding into him from behind.

The thrusts stutter and stop after a moment, the Stormtrooper drawing away, and Poe can’t hold back a whimper when he hears footsteps behind him.

“Nearly there,” Ren tells him. His voice is quiet and soothing, as though the rage from before has burnt itself out. Poe shudders at his touch but clings to it all the same, an island of gentleness in an ocean of agony. “Shh, almost over now.”

Poe tenses, shuddering hard – before he goes completely limp. Doesn’t even shudder when he feels the Stormtrooper line himself up and push inside; just lies there and takes it, lets himself be used.

Ren’s hands stroke over him the whole time, smoothing over too-sensitive skin. Shouldn’t be comforting but he latches onto the touch as awareness of the rest of his body drifts, as the wet slap of skin against skin rings in the air. His body throbs like an exposed nerve but without any of the pain, just a numbness that envelops him, holds him tight. That sinks through his skin right down to his bones.

And all the while those hands stroke over him as a familiar voice murmurs reassuring words in his ear, tells him that _you’ve done so well_ and _just a little longer_ and _nearly there, Poe; you’re nearly mine again._

Poe has no conception of how long it lasts, only knows that at some point there’s a metallic clatter as his hands are suddenly unbound. His arms slump at his sides, the relief of it nearly enough to make him cry before the sudden onslaught of sensation takes his breath away. The throbbing pain of being restrained for so long a hundred times worse as the blood rushes back in, as the feeling starts to come back to them again. He flexes his fingers limply at his sides, shakes.

There’s another clang and then the manacles around his waist and ankles are gone too, except that Poe’s legs are too weak to hold him up. He starts to slide off the bench, distantly expects to hit the floor in a heap.

Something catches him instead, a formless touch that holds him as though he’s something precious. It pulls at him gently until he’s settled gently onto the floor, his head laid down carefully in someone’s lap.

There’s a sticky mess between his legs that makes his mind hitch, the lower half of his body throbbing so hard he can’t feel it at all.

“Shh,” Ren’s voice murmurs above him, reaching down to drag his thumb over the wetness on his cheeks. When his fingers start carding gently through Poe’s hair he leans mindlessly into the touch, too far gone to care where the kindness comes from. He curls in on himself, head cradled in Ren’s lap and eyes squeezed tight against the world. “It’s over now.”

The floor beneath him is freezing cold but the hands on his skin are warm. He drifts in and out, just barely lingering on the edge of consciousness.

“You did so well,” Ren tells him softly, as though it’s something to be proud of, and Poe doesn’t resist the push as Ren slides effortlessly into his mind, as he starts caressing him from the inside out.

“Sir?”

The voice comes from right above him, the familiar distortion of the man’s helmet not quite masking the hint of gorged satisfaction, and Poe _recoils_ as visceral terror shoots up his spine. He wrenches his eyes open but the light is too bright, tries to scramble backwards and nearly loses himself to panic when his arms immediately give out beneath him.

“D-don’t,” Poe begs, the fear mindless and incoherent as it ruptures inside of him. Moving is agony and his vision is blurring at the edges but he can’t do it again, he _can’t,_ the whole world narrowing down to the singular terror pulsing inside of him. He clutches at Ren’s robes with claw-like fingers, shakes his head hard. “I can’t take it anymore, I can’t – Ben, _please_ –”

Poe’s incoherent with it but he doesn’t care, only knows that he can’t do it again, he _can’t._ Is willing to say or do whatever it takes to stop it from happening again. He squeezes his eyes shut, shuddering hard as he lies there and waits as the seconds tick by, charged and heavy and endless.

And then all at once he feels Ren let out an enormous breath of air – as though he’s been holding it in all this time, all of the tension draining from his solid body. Poe flinches violently when someone touches him, relaxes infinitesimally when he realizes it’s Ren’s hand stroking through his hair again.

“Sir,” the Stormtrooper says again after a moment, a bit more cautiously this time. “How would you like us to proceed?”

“Mm,” says Ren, a low hum that makes him sound strangely vindicated. He doesn’t rush to answer the question; just keeps stroking his hand through Poe’s hair, utterly unhurried. Drags his fingers along Poe’s scalp, rubs the back of his neck with his thumb.

When Ren speaks again, his voice is laced with a note of unbending compulsion that makes chills run down Poe’s spine.

“All of you will proceed to airlock 63,” Ren commands, his voice utterly unyielding. His hands keep moving over Poe’s body as he speaks, comforting little caresses that don’t let up for a second. “Once there, you will seal yourselves inside, remove your helmets, and vent yourselves into space.”

Poe goes completely still beneath Ren’s hands.

There’s a long beat of silence – before he hears eight voices mindlessly echoing the command back at him. Poe’s heart is pounding in his chest but Ren isn’t taking it back, isn’t giving any indication that he doesn’t mean it. He stays frozen in place on the floor, listens in stunned incredulity to the sound of footsteps filing out of the room, to the _whoosh_ of the door opening and closing. 

Neither of them say anything for a few minutes after that, the silence broken only by the soft buzzing of the light overhead. Poe’s whole body throbs but he clings to consciousness anyways, lies there with his eyes wide open and his head cradled in Ren’s lap.  Utterly unmoving as Ren’s hands stroke over his skin.

Maybe five minutes after they leave the room, Ren lets out a little sigh.    

“There,” Ren murmurs gently, as though he knows exactly what Poe’s been waiting for. His hands are careful and warm as they smooth over Poe’s skin, his fingers carding sweetly through Poe’s hair like he’s trying to soothe away the hurt. “It’s all right. They’re all gone now.”

Pushed past the brink and his thoughts all disjointed, Poe doesn’t even question the rush of unthinking relief that floods through him at the words. He lets out a shuddering breath, the smallest bit of the horrible tension uncoiling from the pit of his gut.

Poe hurts too much to think. The gnawing fear has finally started to ebb out of his chest, leaving nothing but pain and overwhelmed exhaustion in its wake. His eyes flutter closed as it starts to drag him under, to take him somewhere far away from here.

“It’s all right,” Ren tells him again as the room echoes around them, as Poe finally drifts sideways into the empty nothingness of unconsciousness. He can feel the gentle touch of Ren’s hands stroking through his hair as blackness curls at the edges of his vision. “No one else is ever going to touch you again.”

 

 

 

**the end**

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you're interested in joining me on tumblr, [please feel free here.](http://darkpilot-trash.tumblr.com/) If you really enjoyed the fic, a rebloggable post for the story can be found [here](http://darkpilot-trash.tumblr.com/post/143327003073/fic-creatures-of-appetite-kylopoe). Thank you for reading.


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